Ty was home. The rest of his Sunday had been quiet. Neither of his older siblings had been home by the time he turned in for the night. Even Father, one of the few who cared about his games, wasn't there. His only solace, like always, was Meg; Sunday was an early night for Ty.
In the morning, the pain in his leg had renewed. It wasn't bad. Not agonising, or really even that uncomfortable. It was simply … present … an awareness that he wasn't at one-hundred percent.
That awareness didn't diminish after a cold shower. Ironically, it was school that took his mind off of it, because school was an even bigger pain that day.
It started with an assembly, one to commemorate the football team and their accomplishment on making it to the National Championship.
Again the praise felt off, like they weren't truly praising Ty and the Dons, but more so trying to leech off their success and claim it as their own. Okay, maybe Dominguez High deserved some credit after letting a freshman have a set of spare keys to the gym—if the faculty even knew Coach Hoang had loaned him those keys—but for the most part the school itself hadn't played a role.
Sure, they were the DOMINGUEZ Dons, but that didn't evoke any loyalty to the four walls surrounding Ty, nor to any of the people within them. When he thought of the Dominguez Dons, the school didn't even enter his mind. He just saw his brothers.
Thankfully, he got through the assembly without drawing much attention, as only a few players addressed the school alongside Coach Long and Bella. Jay kept Ty by his side at the back of the swarm of students while JJ, Stephen, and Deshaun took centre stage.
It was a simple, generic speech for the most part with Coach Long taking the lead, thanking everyone for their support, saying how they couldn't have done it without them, yada yada yada. JJ's little section wasn't much different—he definitely had a future as a coach once his playing days were over—but Deshaun and Stephen made sure to stand out.
They both grabbed the mic and proclaimed they'd bring back the trophy for every student here so no matter what happens after, every single motherfucker here could proudly say they went to the best school in all of America.
The assembly didn't last much longer after that, and with the way Coach Long would work both boys later in practice, it was clear he was making an example of them.
The rest of the school day wasn't horrible. Just slow. Ty was used to the extra attention, and could block it out; it was just like a hostile crowd at an away game.
Then came practice. Even the worst session of practice was still the best way Ty could spend his time outside of an actual game. Though the day's session was more middling than bad. The team was still recovering, so it was slow and easy; no contact, of course.
There wasn't anything to specialise in, and Ty was unsure if there would be throughout the week. They seemed to be working through everything Coach Long had ever drilled them in, like they were smoothing as many of the rough edges as they could, hoping for as much perfection as possible.
Thankfully, his leg didn't get worse. Exercising must've done it a world of good—something about the warmth and blood flow probably; maybe he'd have to keep a heat pack on it when he was at home.
At the end of it, Coach Long gathered them all, practically saying as much. Then he went quiet … the mood quickly became sombre. Coach Long was a strong man, yet he was transparent with all his emotions, bar anger. His eyes watered, but no tears flowed. For the first time he was holding them back.
'This is it, boys. The last ride. No matter what happens this weekend, there won't be any more games for us. Not all together. Not as the family we are now.'
Ty hadn't thought about it too much. There hadn't been time with how much he'd needed to focus on their opponents. He looked around. So many of his brothers were in their last year. This was their last chance; their last game together. They'd already done so much together, it'd feel like a waste to fail now.
He couldn't tell if it was their good fortune that he'd joined them when he did, catching their final years with his first which was a springboard into greatness … or was he the lucky one to have spent his first year with the best family possible?
'These past four years, and this one in particular have been the best of my time with the Dons. No-one has ever embodied the Dons' Way, or what it means to be a family, like you boys have. I'm going to miss these days, and I'll cherish every memory I have of you all.'
'Even when we pissed you off?' Stephen asked to a chorus of laughs.
Coach Long laughed too. His eyes sparkled, tears still stuck to them as he grinned. 'I think those times where I got to punish YOU in particular, Stephen, are going to be my favourite memories of this team.'
The laughter got louder as the boys jostled Stephen, who took it all with a wide grin.
'That's enough reminiscing for now,' Coach Long continued. 'We still have a job to do—there's one more opponent to beat, and then no-one can ever say we aren't the best.'
One more opponent. One final obstacle. That was all that remained between Ty and the National Championship; between Ty and his destiny. There was no-one else it could be.
'We'll be facing the Gordon Longhorns this weekend.'
Of course. Ty and that fraud Kentavious Rice Junior had been on a collision course since New Year's Eve, even before then. It had simply became known to them on that fateful night. Finally, he could show everyone Kentavious's true colours. There was nowhere left for the fraud to run.
'Like South Miami a couple of weeks ago,' Coach Long said, 'the Longhorns had a bye through most of the tournament. Unlike South Miami, they proved they were worthy and beat the two opponents standing in their path to the championship. Now its down to just us and them.'
It had to have come to this, but now they were hearing it from Coach Long's mouth, there was a sense of comfort in the certainty of it all. Better the challenge you were expecting than a surprise in the eleventh hour.
Ty expected to find some distraught faces in the group, yet all he was met with were steely gazes and set jaws. They were determined. The result of the upcoming game might not have anything to do with how long they could play together, but nobody wanted to end their time on the Dons with the sour taste of defeat.
'So enjoy this last week,' Coach Long said. 'Go home. Rest up, and prepare yourselves for the best game of your lives. Because no matter the outcome, that's what I want. I want this game to be the one you remember above all when it comes to your time on the Dons.'
The players started to disperse, separating into smaller groups, meeting up with friends who had been watching, before doing just as Coach Long said.
Some lingered, looking at the field with longing; Rabbit did so. JJ stood beside him, putting an arm around his shoulders. How was Rabbit more upset by the swift approach of the team's final game than JJ was?
Ty sighed. He lingered too long, and a little gremlin that had remained hidden throughout practice finally revealed itself. He crossed his arms, watching Ricky approach.
'Do you even go to your own school?' Ty asked.
'I probably get better grades than you,' Ricky responded. 'Can we cut the shit though? This is important.'
Ty frowned. Ricky hardly had anything important to say, yet he wasn't in the mood to argue. 'What is it?'
'You got Insta or Discord? There's a lot of shit you need to see on Skywalker. I need to send you stuff.'
'I'll just get it when the team studies his film.'
'I think it's better if you start studying up as soon as possible, Samuels,' Coach Hoang said, rolling over to Ricky's side. 'Besides, it'll give you something to do.'
Confusion replaced Ty's irritation. 'What's that supposed to mean?'
'You shouldn't push yourself outside of team practice. Just focus on resting up during the week.'
'What? Why wou—'
'I've got reasons, Samuels, if you'd just give me a second to explain.' Coach Hoang hardened expression left no room for argument.
Ty's mouth shut so fast his teeth clicked together.
'Good. Thank you. Now, as I was saying, there's not much room for you to grow in just a week. All practice is going to do now is keep you sharp. There's no need to strain yourself, and risk hurting yourself before the biggest game of your life.'
Ty could see where Coach Hoang was coming from, but he was misguided, wrong. A week was plenty of time to grow if you worked hard enough. Had Ty not proven that by overcoming Stringbean in just a week?
Still, Coach Hoang had a point. Ty doubted he'd work himself to the point of injury, but why risk it? He was ready … and even then, he could still do a quick workout on the side now and then, maybe every day.
'Fine. The brat can just text me the tape. I'll study it every day, but I can't promise about resting all the time. I mean, I ride to and from school every day, isn't that working out already?'
'Text?' Ricky said, as if the word disgusted him. 'What are you, a boomer?'
Coach Hoang's brow furrowed. 'Then isn't that enough? You won't need anything more than that.'
Ty met Coach Hoang's frown with one of his own, but neither was willing to back down.
'Riding a bike's good,' Ricky said. 'Isn't that what Michael Jordan said made him jump so high? 'Cause he had to ride a bike everywhere?'
Ty rolled his eyes. 'Whatever. I don't care. Just give me your number already.'
Ricky groaned, taking Ty's phone. 'You should care. Skywalker has crazy hops.'
The ridiculous nickname to a moment to register in Ty's mind. He held back a laugh as he snatched his phone from Ricky. 'I already told you I don't care. I eclipsed Stringbean, and that giant loser had a twelve foot standing vert.'
Ricky stared at him, unbelieving. Coach Hoang snickered. 'Uh, about that, Samuels. I lied.'
'What?'
'I don't know the specifics of his vertical, but twelve feet seemed like a good benchmark. Besides, if he could reach that, it definitely wouldn't be from a standing position. He'd need a running start.'
'Hah.' Ricky grinned, vindicated.
'Fuck you. What does it matter? I still beat him, just like I'm going to beat that dumbass with the worst nickname ever.' Ty turned, stomping off.
'Like Black Hole is any better?' Ricky called.
Ty, without turning around, flipped him off. 'I didn't come up with that bullshit!' Besides, Black Hole WAS still better than Skywalker. What the hell did Skywalker even mean other than some shitty nerd reference? At least Black Hole meant something. It meant Ty was inescapable—DEFEAT was inescapable.
###
When Ty returned home, there was a car waiting out front across the road. It was a black Rolls Royce, so shiny you could use it as a mirror, just like the one that'd shown up on Christmas day. It could've been the exact same, though Ty didn't remember the number plate.
Another man, different from last time, though still wearing a tuxedo of the same style, got out when Ty neared. He wore a smile that was too rehearsed, but everything about him seemed immaculate to the point it was TOO perfect. In his hands was another black box with red ribbon tied around it.
Ty approached cautiously, dismounting from his bike, rolling it along beside him. When he stopped just out of reach of the man he kept his bike between them. Sure, they were probably from the same organisation or whatever, but no way was he getting snatched by some rich freak's goons.
'Mr Samuels?' the man said.
Ty nodded and the man offered him the box.
'Another gift, for you and your family. Congratulations on making it to the championship. May the best team win.'
Ty took the box, muttering his thanks. He backed off, watching the man get back into the car, the windows tinted almost to the point of being completely blacked out. They wasted little time pulling off the curb and driving off. Ty watched them disappear around the corner before heading into his home. The man's words were lodged firmly in his mind.
"Don't worry. I never planned on losing."
He stepped inside. Deeper within the home, the twins were squealing and giggling. Vicky shouted at them, louder than they ever were as she told them to shut up. Father and Mother's voices came from the living room, drowning out the TV with an argument of their own. The same old shit they were always arguing about. Why was Father always out drinking, probably trying to get some dumb drunk hoe to fuck him, but nobody would be desperate enough for that. He'd retort by telling Mother of course that's where her mind went, because that's what she was doing with those "friends" of hers. How could she take the twins with her on her dick appointments? But of course she had to because he never looked after them. They weren't shouting, yet, but parents were naturally loud. Probably a side effect of having to yell over children all the time.
Megan sat at the table, books before her, earphones in, though they did little to block out the noise of the household. She looked up at Ty, smiling like he was a knight come to save her from her tower. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she took in the box.
Ty set it down beside her work, looking towards the hall. Devon probably wasn't home. He hadn't been much at all after his and Ty's … incident … not like anyone seemed to notice and/or care.
'What's that for?' Meg asked.
'I don't know,' Ty answered, sitting and leaning close so he didn't have to raise his voice to be heard. 'Maybe there's another event they want to do before the championship.'
Her grin widened. She was almost more excited than him about the fact he was going to be the national champion. At least somebody cared. 'Open it,' she urged.
Ty tugged the ribbon—it came loose with ease—then opened the lid. Within the little black box was a stack of tickets. A plane ticket for everybody in the family, along with tickets to premium box seats at AT&T Stadium in Arlington, Texas, for the High School National Championship game.
Megan squeaked with excitement as she pulled the tickets from the box, looking them over. Ty stared at an envelope with his name on it, now revealed, at the bottom of the box.
'What's that noise ab—' Father started, catching himself. He'd entered the kitchen, complaining about needing a drink. He stared at the open box and the tickets Megan held. 'What is that?'
She offered one of each to him, beaming up at him. 'Look, Daddy. Ty's going to the championship and we can come cheer him on!'
Mother followed, having come after Father, saying how he couldn't just walk away from her when she was still talking to him, though she too paused and held her tongue as she approached the table.
Ty picked up the envelope as the others investigated the tickets, silence coming to the room for a moment. The twins soon ran in, laughter and shrieks fading as their game of tag was cut off. They stared at the crowd around the table.
'What's happening?' they asked.
'Oh, my God,' Father said.
'What is it?' the twins repeated, coming closer, bouncing up and down as they tried to see what their parents were reading.
The moment was dreamlike, surreal as Ty opened the envelope, reading over the letter. In the back of his mind, he was aware of those around him. Mother was crying, but she still sounded happy? He couldn't acknowledge yet. It might shatter like a dream did when you realised it was too good to be true; he focused on reading the letter.
To the Samuels Family.Warm welcomes. You'll have noticed the plane tickets have you arriving in Texas the day before the championship game. Fear not, there is already a hotel reserved for you all quite near the stadium. A driver will be waiting for you once you arrive at DFW Airport. I hope you enjoy your stay.For young Tyrese, and the reasoning behind the early arrival. The night before the championship is decided, there will be a press conference and a showcase myself and all the media would be thankful to see you in. It would be wonderful if you could attend.See you soon.Kentavious Rice Sr.
Ty crumpled the letter into a ball. What was the meaning of it? A friendly gesture to make him ease up and not utterly destroy his son on the field? Or was it more insidious, a trap? A way to demoralise him before the game? Maybe they were bullshitting entirely.
'What the hell is all this for?' Mother asked.
She finally noticed the piece of paper in Ty's hand, snatching it from him—he didn't resist, or complain. She unfurled it, smoothing out the crinkles, then skimmed over it. She gasped, gaping at the words.
Father stepped around the table, and laid a hand on Ty's shoulder. Ty looked up, expecting a scolding for causing another disturbance, bringing those weird suits in the Rolls Royce around again, but he was met with a smile and … Father was on the verge of crying? For once he looked like a father should've … like Coach Long in a way.
'I'm sorry for not believing in you, Ty,' Father said. 'I should've known you'd be a champion. You always have been.'
'Oh, my god! Vicky!' Mother cried. 'You have to see this!'
The twins were confused, but upon Mother's insistence, ran off to fetch their older sister, who came reluctantly. When she did, Mother gushed over the trip with her, theorising about how many sights they could see, and what a stay like at a five-star hotel would entail.
Meg sat back, smiling and staring at Ty. Father continued apologising, saying he was sorry for never coming to any of his games, how he'd been too busy with work, but was definitely taking time off for this next one. Lies … but Ty accepted them.
They were excited, finally. They cared, and they'd be there for him.
'You have to tell Devon,' Mother said. 'Oh, Lord where has that boy been? When I see him I'm gonna… ah! But my sweet little Ty is a champion! And we're flying first class because of him.'
'I'm not—'
'You are, Ty,' Father said. 'You will be. But you're already a champion in our hearts.'
He opened his mouth, but he couldn't say anything. It was still too fragile; this dream could still become a nightmare with one wrong step.
'We HAVE to celebrate!' Mother said, mind already racing with ideas.
'Hey now, are you forgetting we just paid the mechanic? We can celebrate plenty when we're there,' Father said. 'This trip's all expenses paid, ain't it?'
'Well we've gotta do SOMETHING tonight, and are YOU gonna cook?' Mother's hands went to her hips. Another argument was brewing. Meg looked to the twins, ready to usher them away once the shouting began. But Father surprised them all when he said:
'…There's enough for some takeout.'
'I'll get ready!'
'Christ, woman, you won't even be going inside!'
'So you don't want me wearing that lipstick you always like?'
'…Shiiit. If you put it that way.'
Giggling, Mother hurried off down the hall. Vicky finally glanced up from one of the first class tickets and met Ty's eyes. 'Cool shit, little bro. Thanks for this.'
'Uh… yeah, no worries.'
Even after they'd all squeezed into the car, with the kids filling the backseat, twins sitting on either girl's lap, Ty was still struggling to believe what was happening.
Their takeout wasn't anything fancy—just some cheap McDonald's—but it was still special. They waited until they were back home to eat, and all sat at the table. The only missing piece was Devon, who hadn't responded to Vicky's message, nor had he answered any of Father or Mother's calls. It was probably for the best; he would've only dampened the mood.
The food was crap, but Ty didn't care. Finally, they were acting like a family again. It wasn't just the fact they were all eating together at the table for once either. It was the laughter, the smiles, even the brightness in their eyes. The way Mother and Father looked at one another, the way even the twins behaved. It was everything … it was perfect.
And it had all happened because of Ty; because they'd finally taken notice of how exceptional he was, and what he could do; what he could become. They would finally be at his game, cheering in the stands as enthusiastically as anyone.
Had that ever happened before? Even back in his Pee Wee days?
How could he lose if they were all there watching, when he'd finally have a chance to prove himself in front of their eyes? It didn't matter what Kentavious Senior's intentions were, Junior and the Longhorns had already lost.
###
Sleep wouldn't come for Ty that night. There was a strange restless energy filling him. Not adrenaline, not alertness, it was … euphoric.
As he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the house bathed in shadows and blanketed by silence, a tear escaped his eye.
He shot up, panting. He wasn't dreaming. There was no nightmare, no surrealistic nirvana. Why couldn't he sleep? Why was his chest so tight he could hardly breathe? And why the fuck was he crying?
He threw off his covers and rolled out of bed, landing in position for push-ups. He shifted his weight onto one-hand, carrying himself with a single arm, switching to the other when he couldn't hold himself. Then it was on to pistol squats until his legs were aching, his soft promises to Coach Hoang completely forgotten. After that it was back onto the floor for crunches until even breathing was a strain.
There he lay, as exhaustion swiftly took him, and sleep finally came in the dead of night.